Times of Trouble
by mar-map
Summary: America has a problem and forgot to come pick up England, who can't help but wonder what happened to his little America. One-Shot


The trips to America's home had become incredibly infrequent over the centuries. Ever since he'd gained his independence England had become more distant, refusing to talk to - or acknowledge - the new nation. When it had been proven clear that America would not come back to him, would not need him England had lowered down his defenses.

When he finally opened his green eyes back to that nation whom used to be his small child he was astonished. He couldn't help but be proud for the things his little child was accomplishing. The way he established a good place for himself, expanding, exploring. How he battled through WWI coming both to his and France's aid just when they needed it. He'd never been more proud before in his life.

America had grown up while he'd had his eyes turned. He'd missed his America truly turning into a man while he'd been so persistent the kid would need him back.

Now, however, he liked coming to visit. Of course he would never admit that to America's face. It didn't make it any less true though. He now traveled to the other's home at least once every three months or so. He said it was just to make sure that the country didn't screw up - after all anything bad happens in America if effects the rest of the world now - but they both knew this wasn't entirely true.

This time when he came though, England wasn't greeted by anyone. The older nation could always count on America to be there at the airport waiting for him excitedly. He'd even been met by America with some of his old bosses before, but that wasn't as common.

When he'd arrived at the blond's home it had been quiet, something very unnatural. He set his bags in the room he usually occupied in the home, looking around as he did so and seeing that the house was pretty much the same as the last time he'd been here.

Just then he went looking for the younger country, only to find him in the office that England had set up for him a few years back. The country was always complaining about being behind in work and not liking to go into the office all day - which was why he work wasn't getting done. To solve this problem he'd transformed one of the guest bedrooms into an office for the other country. This way he had no reason not to get his work done. Until now he'd just figured America didn't use it.

Apparently he did though. America was seated behind the desk, Texas perched on the end of his nose, threatening to fall any moment. There was a cup of coffee nearby that appeared to have gone cold from it's appearance. Papers were scattered everywhere and the lamp was on giving light to the otherwise dark room.

Even from here England could tell America was tired. He'd probably been up for hours working on whatever he was working on. There were crumbled pieces of paper everywhere on the floor and some big schemes all crossed out on the whiteboard behind him. England wondered what was keeping the country so preoccupied.

England even felt a little jealous that whatever he was doing had completely made him forget about his coming visitor. However, the way he looked right now by far made up for that. His hair was disheveled - not that that was anything new - and his complexion was paler than usual. America's clothes were baggy and hung loosely from his frame. Texas was perched far down his nose as he scribbled on a piece of paper below him.

"America?"

The blond didn't answer.

"Alfred," England said quietly using the country's human name. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to make his presence known yet or if he wanted to just stand here and watch the younger nation, fascinated by how focused he was.

Hearing his name America looked up startled. He was probably wondering who would come to his home this late at night. Who would do that i_and/i_ have a key?

"Arthur, what are you-" he stopped and his face paled. "What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Arthur! I'm so sorry!"

The older country smiled and came closer. "It's all right. You're obviously very busy with something." He looked down at some of the diagrams on the desk wondering once again what had his friend so preoccupied.

America sighed wearily. "The oil spill."

It took a fraction of a second for England to register what he was speaking of. He'd heard Matt talking about how much it had been affecting America with France recently. He'd never given if much thought until now.

"That's what this all is?" asked England in surprise. All the crumpled papers on the floor. He reached down and unfolded one. It was a very detailed plan on how to try and preserve the wildlife along the Florida coastline. "This is very good." England was impressed.

"Wouldn't work," America sighed dejectedly. "We couldn't build it soon enough to do any good." He pushed his lenses back up his nose. "Whatever we try it's going to be too late. There's just too much oil. We might as well be trying to separate the water from it."

England looked at a few more. They were all so thought out, so developed, and none of them involved a giant robot or something outlandish like that. America really cared about this.

"America," England said. "How long have you been working on this?"

"Since it happened."

England's jaw dropped. "Have you had any sleep _at all_ since then?"

"Some."

He was being completely serious when he said that.

"You're getting some sleep, _now_," England said sternly. He suddenly felt like hew as the other country's older brother again. "Let other people handle the spill."

"You sound like my boss," America told him with a light smile. England's thick brows knitted. The joking attitude faded when he added. "I've got to keep working. I know my boss said to leave it to BP, but they're not helping!" Realizing who he was talking to he added, "Sorry."

"It's fine." England resolved to get the company working harder. He doubted they were overworking nearly half as much as America was. Always the hero. England smiled lightly.

Forcefully England pulled America from his chair. Normally he wouldn't have the strength to take on the other nation but he figured America wasn't feeling up to putting up much of a fight.

America said seriously. "England, I really should keep working. The people, they need me. The spill, it's hurt so many already. The gulf will take years to heal as it is. Much more of this and it might not at all." When had his little America grown up so much? The fierce determination in his blue eyes was absolutely captivating.

"Alfred," England said gently, switching to the country's human name. "You're always taking care of your people. Now it's time to take care of yourself. They can lose you for a couple hours."

Normally England would expect a staring match at this point to decide who would get their way. America would win and England would let him stay up to work on his project just a little while longer before doing the same thing all over again.

Not this time.

America nodded halfheartedly. Perking up he asked, almost excitedly, "Hey, England, are you tired too?"

"I'm not sleeping with you, America," England told him, irritated. For a couple moments the other nation seemed almost sad as he got into bed alone, before smiling again. He was asleep in a matter of minutes. "Good night, Alfred."

England pulled off Texas from America's nose before setting it on the beside table. He couldn't help but notice the stuffed eagle made from a British flag there. He'd made it for America when he'd turned five. England smiled. Maybe he hadn't quite grown up yet.


End file.
